There's Nothing There
by Felicity G. Silvers
Summary: "If you snore, I am going to hit you in the kidney," Loki informed him, well aware even that might not wake the agent. Steve was always entirely too difficult to wake in the mornings. (That he was only like that with Loki didn't mean the slightest thing. They were not a Thing.)


A while back I saw a prompt off imagine-your-OTP:

Imagine Person A of your OTP waking up, then realizing they can't get out of bed because Person B is sleeping on their arm.

Seeing as I was in the mood to write a one-shot as a mental break from all my other things (Interludes, Bifurcation, a non-posted thing), I decided to give it a go finally.

This is an AU setting; no Avengers, though SHIELD is a thing. Everyone is just extraordinary humans; Thor and Loki are also human and no Asgard.

Enjoy.

* * *

"Steve. Steve. Get up."

Steve didn't even twitch. Loki poked him in the ribs, where he knew Steve was ticklish. Steve snorted, rolled, both pinning Loki's arm further and throwing an arm around Loki's chest.

If they weren't in bed Loki was fairly certain his arm would be broken.

He tried glaring at Steve, though it seemed to have little effect. Asleep, Steve's mouth was parted, face half-pressed into the pillow. He _almost _looked innocent like that, but Loki knew he wasn't. He wouldn't let himself get suckered into this, wouldn't let himself fall for this all too earnest SHIELD agent.

(Honestly, Loki hadn't the faintest how Steve managed being an agent and he worked with the man.)

"_Steve_," he hissed, giving another good shove. Steve only burrowed closer and Loki finally resigned himself to the fact that unless Steve woke sometime soon, he was going to be late getting into the labs.

(Considering that his associates were Stark and Banner, he didn't foresee it being too terrible much of an issue; Stark was always late, Banner always on time, and Loki was _usually_ early, if only because it meant that he could safely avoid Thor (not that he was avoiding his brother). The only issue was that it was going to be _remarked _upon, and as this wasn't Loki's home, he hadn't anything to cover the no doubt astounding bruises on his neck and collarbone. Who knew the all American golden boy of SHIELD was a biter?)

(Loki did; had known for quite some time now. Not that he _minded_, quite the contrary.)

Loki regarded the rest of the bedroom, or what he could see of it at any rate. It had more in it than he necessarily expected; Steve was often out globe-trotting and Loki knew he rarely had much time in town before he would be sent off once more. Well, unless he'd been injured, in which case he would ghost about headquarters looking like a kicked puppy until someone finally found him something to do. The curtains actually matched the bedspread, which was, perhaps, more than Loki could say for his own little apartment.

Not that it seemed Steve had noticed that detail.

Steve snorted in his sleep again, nose tickled by some of Loki's hair.

"If you snore, I am going to hit you in the kidney," Loki informed him, well aware even that might not wake the agent. Steve was always entirely too difficult to wake in the mornings.

(That he was only like that with Loki didn't mean the slightest thing. They were not a _T__hing_.)

(Nor did it mean anything that this was the first time they'd ended up back at Steve's place instead of Loki's. Not at all. Loki's was simply closer most of the time (even when it was not))

Room examined as much as it could be, Loki found himself quickly growing bored. He drummed a rhythm on the mattress, then tried drumming it against Steve on the off-chance it would wake him. (Naturally, he couldn't be so lucky.) Everything was too quiet; he tried focusing on the sound of Steve, but it was hardly enough to fill the silence, giving him time to think he definitely neither wanted nor appreciated.

(Time to think about how very very _close_ to death Steve had come this last mission, three hours where no one knew where he was or what was going on, three hours _far_ too many, heart thudding and lodged somewhere in his throat, not panicking, hands shaking as he tried to do _anything else_ because there was nothing there, this wasn't a thing, and he was not Steve's keeper, this was a natural thing, something that happened to all agents, always prepared in case they needed give their life to country, and Loki knew that was exactly _why _this was not a Thing.)

There was not anything on the bed stand to fiddle with. Of course not.

(Time to think about the sudden utter relief that washed through him and left him too weak to stand when Steve finally reported in again, sincere and goofy apology on his lips, how he could picture the specific tired smile and the glances Stark and Banner had given him.)

Or in the drawer, once he managed to get it open. Truly?

(Or how as soon as Steve was debriefed and off the clock, as soon as he and Loki had left together, Steve had suggested they head back to Steve's place and Loki had said yes without a thought, and they'd barely had the door shut before they were pressed together, clawing clothing off, desperate edge and fire in every touch, bite, and kiss, fingertips digging in bruising and leaving bright red marks across each other's skin, sweet relief and terrifying near-loss shattering any restraint they usually had, strength both usually kept tucked away brought to bear so as not to let go.)

"You're thinking again," Steve murmured in his ear, blue eyes opened part of the way and watching Loki.

"You say that is if I ever stop," Loki snarked back. "Are you going to get off of my arm now?"

Steve studied him, then pressed a kiss to Loki's throat.

"No."

"I need to go in."

"Mmm... no." Steve moved, letting Loki reclaim his now asleep arm (of course it was), then settled back against Loki's side, throwing a leg over Loki's and wrapping his arm back around Loki's waist. "It's Saturday. You don't work Saturday."

Loki blinked. Was it? It felt like it had been so much longer.

(Three weeks, perhaps three years, not just three hours.)

"Oh. Well then. Perhaps I work Saturdays now. Villainy rests for no man."

Steve smiled against Loki's skin, warm shiver traveling down his spine at the sensation, followed the hand creeping across skin and clasping tight to Loki's own.

"I think the world'll survive you staying here for a little while. Unless you want to leave?" Steve opened his eyes again, leaning up some so that he could look at Loki properly (and Steve did _not_ know how to tell when Loki was lying, he simply preferred to see people when he asked them questions).

"I can stay, I suppose," Loki answered, looking away and yet still able to catch sight of the radiant smile that spread on Steve's face.

Steve kissed him, all softness, slow and gentle; Loki closed his eyes and pressed back into the kiss, savouring taste and feel, how Steve's fingers drifted and pressed lightly into Loki's spine as Loki rolled over closer, the jump and shiver of muscles beneath the skin as his own hands explored Steve's arms and sides, until they were a tangled mess on the bed, every inch of them that could be pressed together, until Loki forgot what it was to breathe and had to pull back.

"Sorry," Steve said when they pulled apart, foreheads resting together.

"It happens," Loki said, trying to brush it off.

"I know. Doesn't make me less sorry for worrying you."

"You say that like I worried." If the scoff came out a little flat, Steve had the grace to not comment on it, a small smile on his lips (Loki's favourite smile, private and no less beautiful; the first time he saw it was nearly three months ago, and it had stolen his breath and made his thoughts suddenly _stop _for one blessed moment of silence that now was so frequent around Steve that when they spend days together Loki could nearly forget what it was to be constantly thinking, analyzing, and weighing every single thing around himself).

"Well, it's the sort of thing that _might_ worry you, Dr. Overthink Everything, so sorry for making you _maybe _worry."

"Hmph. Don't do it again. Idiot."

"I'll try," Steve promised.

"Besides, if you don't come back, who else is going to remind me to eat?"

Steve laughed, burying his face into Loki's neck until he could finally get it under control; Loki found himself smiling without even thinking about it.

"Well," Steve finally said, "I imagine Tho-"

"If you finish that sentence I will push you out of the bed."

Steve grinned.

"You'd _try_," he corrected.

Loki raised an eyebrow.

"Not that I'm suggesting we test that out," Steve quickly added.

"Thank you."

They laid there for a bit longer, not saying anything. Loki studied the way the morning light shifted over Steve's skin, set his hair to glowing, the pale aquamarine of his eyes (steadily avoiding the thought of how he almost did not get to see this again). Steve brushed a hand over Loki's cheek, pushing some hair behind his ear, and let his hand come to rest at Loki's throat.

"You want breakfast?" Steve finally asked.

"That sounds delightful."

XXXXXX

They don't say 'I love you' as they moved around the small kitchen, only press kisses to bare skin, fingers tracing bruises and scratches from the night before while they wait on things to cook. They feed each other, sitting together in the floor of the kitchen so they can stay as close as possible, until food gets abandoned in favour of exploring each other again, saying in touch what neither are willing to say yet, not aloud, because saying it might make it real, and if it's real then there is something neither wants to lose, neither wants to risk, and in their work, they have to be willing to throw everything to wind and risk it all.

And later, Loki will insist there's nothing there and Steve will smile and agree, but their hands will lace together as they kiss before Steve has to leave again (to Germany, to Moscow, to a hundred thousand places Loki cannot follow him, to a hundred thousand ways he might not come back).


End file.
